Lingering Doubt
by Nanatsusaya
Summary: The horrific destruction of a quiet town seems to have a simple explanation, but things are not always as they seem. Smoker tries to piece together the puzzle, finding nothing but doubts. Smoker x Ace, rated M for dark-ish themes and future content.


_There has been an incident at the village of Fairgreene. Report on status ASAP._ Smoker crumpled the cryptic note in one gloved hand, tossing it in to the overflowing wastebasket with all its relatives. To say the commodore was irked about the message would have been a gross understatement, and not merely because it lacked any details at all let alone appropriate orders. Fairgreene was sending him and his crew backtracking on the Grand Line, in the complete opposite direction of the _Going Merry_ and her crew. Smoker had bypassed that backwater town for the explicit reason that it was historically devoid of pirates, a last bastion of utterly useless and archaic subsistence farming on an island that the world had long ago forgotten the name of. The mystery of how the community had survived so long unmolested would likely remain unanswered indefinitely. Not that he cared. What else was causing Smoker's poor mood was his disbelief that his could be the only Marine ship within range to investigate this "incident". In fact, if he had answered the call himself, he might have said as much.

They ought to be pulling into harbor soon and Smoker grudgingly roused himself from his desk, bracing one foot on the chair to tie a stray lace. The scrambling and shouts filtering through the deck above confirmed their status, and he reached for his weapon. With a small amount of luck, a quick once-over would be enough to call this a wild goose chase and they would be on their way in an hour or so. Smoker's boots stomped across the floor, and he jerked the door open with enough force to send the poor recruit on the other side pitching forward as he was about to knock. Smoker caught him by the shoulder with a grunted half apology and pushed him back until he righted himself.

"S-sir…" The recruit's jaw worked without making a coherent sound as if he wasn't entirely sure how to described what he wanted to say.

"Just spit it out." While he waited, Smoker lit a fresh cigar, shaking the match out slowly. He wasn't in any great hurry to find out what this was about. Wasn't sure if he ever wanted to find out, came the split second correction in the part of his brain that was anxious to return to the chase.

The recruit swallowed hard and closed his eyes, finally able to answer. "I think you'd better see for yourself, sir," he said quietly. An unexpected attitude, to say the least, and it gave Smoker a sinking feeling in his stomach that this wouldn't be a quick or easy assignment.

His message delivered, the young man snapped around and headed stiffly towards the stairs, but not before Smoker caught a brief glimpse of the green tinge washing over his skin which he was obviously trying very hard to hide. Curious. That look was enough to spur the commodore to follow. On deck, the sunlight came down at a strange angle, illumination diffuse even though it should have been a gloriously bright day. He glanced up, unnerved by the obvious sparkle of the sea not a mile out while his ship was shaded, and immediately spotted the reason. Thinking on it later, Smoker would find it strange that he didn't automatically sense the black pillar of ash and smolder blocking the light. There was something entirely sinister and unnatural about the pillar as his eyes followed it with detached revulsion to the source. The harbor was gone completely, sunk into the sea, but parts of the town were still standing in the distance, blackened and eerily grotesque in its complete destruction. Not burning now, but still hot enough to be sending up great clouds of black debris when a charred building or tree collapsed. Incident indeed. He forced back the creeping horror threatening to steal over with a brief shake of his head that chased all the way down his spine. "Drop anchor. We'll send a search party to look for survivors," Smoker told the crew firmly, seeing more than a couple of men jump involuntarily at the sound of his deep voice behind them.

The crew exchanged nervous glances, but didn't hesitate to act. As they scattered to different parts of the ship, Tashigi was revealed to be standing against the railing, where Smoker joined her, turning his back to the burnt village. He didn't have to look to know that her knuckles were probably bleach white from gripping the rail and that she was probably trying her damnedest to fight back tears.

With an idle flick of his wrist, Smoker tossed his half-finished cigar into the water. Suddenly, the added smoke seemed like too much. "You don't have to go," he said to her when he was sure they were out of earshot of the rest of the crew.

Tashigi started, apparently so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't noticed her captain standing near. "I…" The girl looked down to compose herself. Tried and failed. "Thank you," she whispered, still as a statue and without any obvious plans of moving. Her grip on the rail was probably the only thing keeping her from fainting, Smoker realized.

"Someone will have to stay here and get the infirmary up to speed in case we find survivors." Tashigi didn't answer, but he knew it was the kind of thing she would want to hear, that she was able to help despite her weakness. There was no reason for her to have to see what was left on that island.

Even before the boat reached shore Smoker was sure they would find no survivors. The ground was scorched within feet of the small beach they were headed toward. The other men that volunteered to come on the first trip were grimly hopeful, whether that was out of stubbornness picked up from their captain or naiveté Smoker couldn't know. Around them the water was murky with ash and debris, the remains of the harbor and whatever small ships had been docked there. He thought he saw a piece of black fabric slip by the side of the boat in his peripheral vision. Pirate flag? But no, there was likely a more innocent explanation. The commodore's mind was jumping to the right conclusions on the wrong island—pirates didn't bother coming here in any official capacity.

The sand came up abruptly under the prow and the crew immediately leapt out to haul it aground. Smoker was already at the edge of the sand, staring down into the shallow valley where the town lay. Whoever had done this had cut a huge swath along where the road used to be, but ten times as wide. The fields just beyond appeared to be mostly untouched. Strange.

"Davis, Taro, and Hutch come with me. The rest of you search the area. Anyone left alive would probably have fled into the surrounding fields if they could. Report back to the beach in two hours." Smoker chose the most experienced of the search party to go to the village, knowing what it would look like and unable to shake the nagging feeling that something was off.

Heat rolled in great waves off the widened road as soon as he stepped onto it, the three men behind him balking momentarily to cover their faces with scraps of fabric at the unpleasant scent that came with it. If it weren't for their military-issue boots they would have had to turn back almost as soon as they started, but the lingering heat was bearable through the thick soles and leather. When they reached the town, Smoker motioned for the men to split up while he strode ahead towards the central square. Twisted dark things that looked vaguely human were caught in what doorways and windows were still partially intact. Clearly, there had been a mass panic, they'd known something was happening. At the end of the street a large building that seemed to be of stronger constitution than the others loomed up, some of its stones even untouched save for a thin layer of ash. Probably an inn or some other kind of public gathering place, Smoker thought as he appraised his chances of finding survivors within. The most likely place to have a deep cellar where the townspeople could hide. Then again, they could also have been baked alive in such a confined underground space.

Before Smoker could begin his search, his hoped for survivor found him, stumbling into the daylight from the broken doorway of the inn. Coated in grime though he was, it didn't take longer than three seconds for the entire riddle of Fairgreene village to come into roaring clarity—Ace. The pirate had only just looked up to see Smoker standing there before he was slammed against a wall inside the derelict building. The wall shuddered precariously, some of the mortar crumbling away at the top, and Ace gasped weakly as all the air rushed out of his lungs, startled eyes locking with the Marine's. "Ni…ce…to see…you too," Ace wheezed, barely audible to Smoker over the pounding of his own blood.

"What is this?" he ground out after a long silence. It didn't make sense—Ace may be a strong pirate, but he wasn't capable of mass murder. Smoker knew that intimately, but the evidence was blatantly compelling. "Why would you… Tell me you did not do this." The last few words came out in barely more than a hard whisper.

Alarm registered in Ace's eyes, and he struggled against the iron-like grip on his shoulders. "No…I was asleep…the roof collapsed, knocked me out," he stopped struggling, panting in the thick air. "I swear. On my mother's grave, Smoker, I had nothing to do with this."

Smoker's eyes flickered up to a gash on Ace's forehead, clotted with dry blood and soot. He could feel the dark eyes boring into him, a powerful will trying to force him to believe the ridiculous list of circumstances. If Smoker was honest with himself, it made perfect sense. This inn wasn't the epicenter—it would have been decimated if it had been. The source must have been at the edge of the beach aimed inward. And Ace could not have been injured if he were conscious. He would've been long gone, not coughing and bewildered in the remains of a town he had no clear association with. Smoker's grip eased, letting go entirely as the decision settled in his mind. This assignment was getting infinitely more complicated by the minute. Ace said nothing, staying propped against the wall with his eyes closed against the sting of the ash the two men had stirred up.

"Stay out of sight," Smoker finally answered tersely. "I'll be back soon."

Ace nodded, sliding into the shadows before settling on the floor. His expression was unreadable, but the stiffness of his spine told the commodore that Ace was beginning to understand his surroundings. It hurt a little, in the space behind his sternum, to leave him sitting amongst the carnage, but he didn't see that there was another option. As it stood already, he didn't know how to get Ace back to his cabin unnoticed. Lingering wasn't helping the matter; he needed to finish the search before the sun set. Their best choice for the moment was to wait until nightfall.


End file.
